


you are the moon

by sugakun



Series: i'll give you the universe [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 04:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugakun/pseuds/sugakun
Summary: It’s soft, and if this were volleyball practice, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. But the gentle laugh that escapes from Osamu’s chest is like a symphony in Suna’s ears: the way it resonates against the walls fills his mind with a sweet sound he wishes he could hear forever, for the quietest people had the most memorable laughs.





	you are the moon

Suna knows better than to press for answers—he, of all people on the team, knows that better than anyone.

But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t—_couldn’t_—worry about Osamu. Suna watches intently as the other boy quietly picks up the mug of cocoa he just made, taking slow sips. There’s no obvious expression upon his features as he watches, and it’s on purpose. He doesn’t want Osamu to think something is off, because that’s the automatic assumption when Suna shows even the subtlest change in his eyes or lips. It doesn’t help that he’s had years of practicing his poker face, which could rival even that of Kita’s (according to Atsumu and Akagi).

Thus, with years of practice comes the ability to read others, and he can recognize that Osamu has not mastered the same art as himself. There’s something along the lines of distress and stubbornness strewn in the way the wing spiker stares at the ceramic cup when he’s not drinking his cocoa, and how he fiddles with his fingers and tugs at the sleeves of his sweater.

That’s something he and Osamu have in common: their actions are louder than their words. Suna would’ve thought that that would have been enough to bring them closer in their friendship. But, there’s also one thing they don’t have in common: twin rivalry. It’s a matter that Suna has no experience with, and all he can really say is that the complexity and intricacies behind it run deeper than the ocean.

Other than the simple fact that he and Atsumu had gotten into one of more serious arguments, Osamu has left Suna completely in the dark about the rest of the situation. Perhaps it’s on purpose, as if Osamu didn’t want to worry Suna any more than he already had. However, it was nearly impossible not to the minute he opened the door to his house to see Osamu standing outside, with a small bag around his left shoulder and several colored bandages taped to his cheeks.

Suna never predicted that that would end up being the reason for visiting each other. But here they were, now separated by a tea table and two mugs.

As curious and concerned as he is, Suna gives Osamu the comfort of silence. It’s a gesture meant to say, “I’m here when you’re ready.” Fifteen minutes have gone by since Suna brought the warm drink for him, but he doesn’t press. He reaches out to take his own mug by the handle, when Osamu’s voice hesitates just the slightest.

“Sorry for troubling you, Suna.”

Suna shakes his head earnestly, drawing his hand back from the table. “It’s no trouble. I wasn’t about to let you sleep out in the cold—Kita would never hear the end of it.”

He’s never felt more relieved to see a smile; it’s small, but he can tell it’s genuine as it draws the corners of Osamu’s lips upward. Suna doesn’t show any signs of his reactions, and he immediately picks up his mug to obscure the smile he was beginning to return.

They sit in silence until they finish their cocoa. Suna almost expected the next ten minutes doing so to be the most awkward ten minutes he’s ever experienced, but they were far from it. And it hits him that it’s not often he feels this comfortable sitting in someone else’s presence without much conversation, if at all. The realization washes over him in a wave of gentle warmth, and he can’t force it down.

Suna is certain that, in this moment, he doesn’t want to hold it back.

When Osamu takes the last sip of his drink, Suna checks the time on his phone and decides it’s best if they get ready to sleep when the screen reads 0:14. Somehow, finishing hot cocoa ended up taking longer than he thought (not that he minded), so he reaches over to grab Osamu’s cup and stands up.

“I’m gonna prepare my bed for you, I’ll take the futon in the living room tonight.”

Osamu glances up from the floor, and the look in his eyes almost makes Suna go weak in the knees. He’s thankful for the years of intense practices for giving him the strength to stand upright in moments of fatigue as he makes his way over to the kitchen.

“I can’t let you do that, I’m the one intruding in your home.”

Suna can just make out Osamu’s voice over the sound of running water from the sink, and he replies once he’s finished washing the mugs, setting them down on the drying rack and wiping the water off his hands with a towel.

“But you’re the guest, so it only seems right. Really, it’s alright,” he insists, and motions for Osamu to follow with a wave of his hand. “Come on, it’s getting late.”

Osamu seems hesitant, but Suna simply moves ahead as he walks over toward his room. It’s just like he left it this morning: a textbook left wide open on his desk, sweat-stained jackets set to a chair on the side, and his blanket folded neatly on top of his mattress. Suddenly, he feels the urge to organize the mess in fear that he would make Osamu feel uncomfortable. But, surely Osamu’s room couldn’t have been much different, thus making him not one to judge?

The possibility of that immediately becomes irrelevant as Suna puts the book away, throws the jackets into his laundry hamper, and spreads the blanket over his bed, making sure to tuck in the edges and stack the pillows properly. Since when did Suna care so much about how his bed was set up? He usually didn’t bother when it was time to sleep.

After several minutes of what should have been extraneous tidying, he turns around and sees Osamu already waiting at the door. Suna wonders if he’s been watching him this entire time and looks away as a blush starts to bloom in his cheeks.

“It’s all set for you. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” Suna rushes the words out, ducking away past Osamu as quickly as possible.

“Thanks, Suna,” Osamu says, causing Suna to pause in his track. Suna doesn’t look back as he simply nods, then resumes rushing back to the living room.

\-----

Suna should’ve fallen asleep hours ago. But the intense pounding of his heart against his chest has kept him wide awake, overpowering the weariness he should be feeling at 1:30 in the morning. To go along with it all, he couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened between the twins just earlier this evening. If it wasn’t a case of their usual banter, then it must have been serious, and the bandages on Osamu’s cheeks seemed to tell just as much.

Curiosity and massive crushes definitely didn’t mix well together.

A deep breath in, and a heavy release out. They don’t help to slow his pulse, but they do take some weight off his mind. The slight relief doesn’t last too long, though, for he doesn’t miss the gentle _thump, thump _of footsteps coming from down the hall. Suna turns over to face away from that direction to feign sleep, covering his head with the blanket to hopefully help with the act.

“Suna? Are you awake?”

Suna holds his breath, unsure of what to do. Should he respond? Should he keep pretending to be asleep so Osamu would go back? He should’ve pressed his lips together to stop his answer, but his heart is louder. So much louder than his mind can remember, and he almost wonders if this is a terrible idea.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep?”

He drags the blanket off and slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes to help adjust to the darkness of the living room. Osamu is just a few feet away, slightly slouched in drowsiness, hair tousled, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders to protect him from the cold night air. The sight shouldn’t be making his head pound, so he tries to ignore it.

“Too much on my mind. Plus, your room is too chilly.”

Suna manages a quiet snort as he shifts to a sitting position, his legs now draping over the futon’s edge.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Kinda happens when winter hits Tokyo.”

It’s soft, and if this were volleyball practice, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. But the gentle laugh that escapes from Osamu’s chest is like a symphony in Suna’s ears: the way it resonates against the walls fills his mind with a sweet sound he wishes he could hear forever, for the quietest people had the most memorable laughs.

Suna wonders if Osamu thought the same of his laugh, but he sincerely doubts it, as most of his laughs were the result of his and Atsumu’s pranks on the team.

Osamu now gets closer to Suna and pauses a few feet away from him.

“Got room for one more?” Osamu asks.

A simple nod of his head is all Osamu needs to take initiative and lie down next to Suna, the front of his body sinking into the cushion as he grabs a pillow to tuck beneath his chin. Carefully, Suna crisscrosses his legs back onto the futon, giving Osamu plenty of space to feel comfortable in his position.

And just before, they don’t exchange many words, instead listening to each other breathe. Suna leans his head to press against the back of the futon, but he looks over the other boy out of the corners of his eyes. At a first glance, it looked like Osamu had fallen asleep as quickly as he situated himself. But Suna knows how to read people well, and Osamu is still wide awake, his eyes focused on the coffee table beside them.

It’s strange how comfortable the silence becomes. Suna wishes every practice were like this, for they would be finished a lot earlier otherwise, but this is the type of silence that no court can provide. It’s a comfort he only experiences with Osamu; they’re unquestionably the most soft-spoken members of the team, so it’s like this comfort is something that only quieter people knew.

But there’s an entirely different layer of depth making it feel like this silence is a feeling that only Suna and Osamu know. Moments that only the two of them can _share._ Suna can’t tell if this is the start of something disastrous or irreplaceable, and he doesn’t have time to think twice about it when Osamu speaks, his whispered voice loud in the open room.

“Thanks again, Suna,” Osamu says, propping his chin on the pillow so he can face Suna.

Suna manages to meet Osamu’s gaze without too much heat rushing to his cheeks. “You definitely owe me a new container of jelly fruit sticks for this after practice on Monday,” he says in return.

“Sure. What flavors do you like?”

They share a small debate over whether grape or strawberry is the better flavor, but this doesn’t last for too long as they can’t convince each other to take one side. Then they move on to other topics: what their quiz next week would be about, how cold it was starting to get outside, and they keep going until they run out of things to say.

Their conversations seem to work in easing Osamu into sleep, which had been Suna’s intention. It relieves him to hear Osamu’s breathing grow deeper, his head turned away and eyes shut gently.

Suna almost, _almost _forgets just how close Osamu actually is until he accidentally brushes his fingers against the top of Osamu’s head, the soft tousles of his hair rubbing against his skin. He pulls it back in fear of waking Osamu up, but the other boy doesn’t stir. The sensation is one he is very unfamiliar with, but… for some reason, it calms him down.

_I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. I might ruin our friendship if I do this._

But the sight of Osamu shifting to slumber tells him otherwise. Maybe it would help him even more…

Suna doesn’t have time to regret it; his fingers find their way back to the strands of hair that seem to illuminate from the moonlight peeking through the window. Slowly, carefully, they get lost in shades of light brown as they comb through. Softly, gently, Suna brushes Osamu’s hair once, twice, three times.

He loses count of how many times his hand goes through the motion, and at that point, Suna realizes that he’s probably dipped his chances in too far. His fingers start to withdraw from Osamu’s hair, the warmth leaving with every centimeter further.

“Why are you stopping?”

Suna’s hand hesitates to a halt. He didn’t think Osamu was still awake, and he can only hope he didn’t ruin everything their relationship was built upon. Years of trust, of tosses to him, of stopping the most intense spikes side-by-side—would that all vanish in a matter of seconds?

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to—I just—”

“It feels nice, Suna,” Osamu assures, and it makes Suna’s heartbeat pick up in pace.

Osamu doesn’t say any more than that. Suna takes that as his cue to resume brushing his fingers through his hair, so he does just that. Slowly, carefully, just like he had before. Softly, gently, as if this moment was too fragile, too precious to the both of them.

It certainly was to Suna.

The warmth of Osamu’s hair on his fingers softens the tension throughout his own body, and he loses track of time as he continues with the motions. Suna ignores the fact that he’s in the most awkward position to fall asleep, for Osamu’s comfort mattered more. Ignores the possibility of an aching neck in the morning, for Osamu would be able to sleep his worries away for tonight.

Suna can’t predict what will happen when the sun wakes them up. But for tonight, just for tonight, he would make sure Osamu felt safe.

Like the moon shining on them as they dreamt, Suna would shine his light until Osamu felt at home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter [@ahkashisan](https://twitter.com/ahkashisan)!


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